


Put Something On

by TheSteelChimera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Not So Mild Angst, mostly comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-01-17 16:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSteelChimera/pseuds/TheSteelChimera
Summary: Sometimes the doctor's orders are wrong and must be ignored.In which Jesse is a good friend, Genji's human rights are being violated, Gabriel conspires to fix this, and a care package is delivered.aka "The Blackwatch Squad love and support Genji" in bite-sized, semi-plotless slice-of-life form.





	1. Sparring

“Hey, Genji?” Jesse asked his sparring partner as he dodged another bullet.

The cyborg didn’t reply, but by the intense red-eyed stare, the gunslinger knew he had his attention.

“Aren’t you technically naked right now?”

The question made the younger man stop and the glowing red stare was paired with an owlish head-tilt. The cyborg didn’t often speak, not to Jesse anyway, but his body language was a language of its own, and one that the cowboy had endeavoured to learn.

“I realise that you ain’t exactly got anything to hide.” He took a shot, Genji’s sword rose to meet it at a speed that Jesse’s eyes could barely even register. “But don’t you feel strange, running around like that?”

The bullet buried itself into the opposite wall. Jesse swore he saw a sigh move through his friend’s chest. To be fair, he wasn’t sure Genji saw him as a friend, even if they were “neighbours”.

“Dr. Zeigler says that my joints are still too exposed and that fabric might get caught.” Genji spoke, Jesse could plainly hear that he was simply repeating what he’d been told, the synthetic edge to his voice only strengthened that impression, “Until that is solved, I cannot risk being immobilised by my own clothing.” He charged, Jesse countered with a flashbang but missed.

Jesse landed on his back hard when Genji’s shorter, but no less sharp, sword swished millimetres above his face.

“You’re talking as if you don’t have any time where you aren’t fighting.” The American rolled to his feet, Peacekeeper at the ready, facing Genji’s back “You ain't a weapon.”

The cyborg’s frame seemed to go rigid, “That’s where you’re wrong.” He said.

A pregnant pause resounded through the air.

Genji was in the air, Jesse felt an impact in his chest and was immediately launched across the room. He was nearly at the back wall when he finally stopped. Something flashed by and a clatter echoed to the side, Jesse reached for Peacekeeper but realised it wasn’t at his hip. And neither was anything else.

He jumped forward trying to get into a defensive position. He didn’t have the time. He was dragged to the ground, face first. He braced for impact, hit the ground, tensed to rise again. A weight hit his back, sending him crashing down again. His head was roughly wrenched off the floor. Cold metal was pressed against his neck, the weight on his spine and ribcage suffocated him against the floor and the grip that pulled at his hair was inescapable.

“I have always been weapon, and always will be.” Genji whispered into his ear, the sensation was strange, the synthetic voice sounding so low and not even slightly breathless,  “I have no illusion of being anything else.”

Jesse swallowed hard, he felt his throat press closer against the atom-sharp blade. He didn’t want to be scared, he knew that’s what Genji wanted him to feel. So he did the opposite: he laughed.

He couldn’t feel Genji move, that cyborg body was too steady in a fight to have any tells, but he just knew that one of his sparring partner’s eyebrows had just shot up.

“And now I know that you’ve been holding out on me, Genji.” He chuckled, “And all this time I thought I’d be able to get the drop on you someday.”

There was no response for a moment, then Jesse felt the weight on his back disappear. He rolled over exposing himself, unarmed and prone, to the cyborg, who was always armed and dangerous. Jesse stared at the narrow slit that revealed Genji’s eyes, trying to discern an expression.

“Is that a smile, Shimada?” Jesse smirked, guessing at the twist of a smile instead of the impassive metal that he could see.

“You cannot tell.”

“You kicked my ass, I made a joke, and you didn’t kill me instantly.” Jesse shrugged, “Either you are smiling or you think I am too stupid to be worth killing. I’m willing to bet those odds.” He smiled at Genji again before going to retrieve his belt, which had been neatly sliced off his body.

“If I had killed you, Commander Reyes would have had my head.”

Jesse scoffed, “He’d be just as happy to see me out of his hair, believe me.” The gunslinger laughed in good humour.

He had a friendly “rivalry” with his boss, Jesse had set himself the task of seeing just how much he could annoy Reyes before the commander killed him himself. Gabriel knew this and, Jesse suspected, wanted to see just how far he would take it, or was just waiting for Jesse to shoot himself in the foot.

/Agent McCree, Please Report To Launch Bay 4./ Athena intoned over the PA.

“Well, that’s my cue.” Jesse did his best to loosen and knot his belt such that his gun stayed where it was supposed to be and so did his pants, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Unlikely.” Genji replied

Jesse ignored the words and gave his morose friend a tip of his hat before exiting the practice range.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an argument to be made that Classic!Genji is not stark naked, but I'm sorry Blackwatch!Genji is very much completely and irredeemably naked and I have Questions.


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji remembers the good old days. Jesse is like a bad penny.

Genji was in his quarters, where he spent most of his time unless he had a scheduled activity or his presence was requested. He didn’t have much to do, Overwatch had provided him with a few novels, both in English and in Japanese, but he never felt like reading.

So mostly he sat, feeling empty, either on the chair, the bed or the floor. He was currently on the single bed, the thin covers messy from last night, sitting upright and trying to stay calm as he caught a quick charge before Dr. Ziegler dragged him out for physical therapy again.

He hated physical therapy, hated the exercises and how repetitive and pointless they were. Hated the fact that it only showed him how much he had lost. When he sparred with McCree he felt good, even if he went slowly for his own sake, it felt useful. But Dr. Ziegler made him feel like he’d never achieve anything.

He curled a bit further into himself, he knew he was pushing his knee joints a bit too close together and that he’d regret this position when he got up again, but right now, he didn’t care. He needed… something. Something that wasn’t this, something close and warm and soft, unlike the cold plaster of the wall against the hard metal of what he had been made into.

Images of the past flashed through his mind. Hands pawing at his shoulders, gliding down his sweat-slick flanks, tracing the sinuous curves of the dragon that floated up his spine. The sunset painting her eyes in fire, her hands brushing against his skin as they carefully removed layers of clothing from him, the feel of his hungry smile, his voice low and sensual, lewd whispers and the thick taste of her lipstick as he licked it off. A hand on his shoulder, the grip firm and assuring, a small smile of congratulation that felt like fireworks in his skull that he returned brightly, a training dummy in splinters behind him. A slap to the back of the head, a half-hearted insult and a hard shove to the shoulder that threatened to send him tumbling right off the gazebo roof, laughter in his ears under a silver moon. The sound of sparrow song in the trees, cherry blossom petals landing in his hair and on his hands, his head resting on a shoulder covered in soft silk, a pen scratched on paper nearby as he pretended to be asleep. A hand tousling his hair, reaching down as he stretched upwards, small hands grabbing at long sleeves, the feeling of the sun and summer and the sound of people around him, being picked up, laughter and the sudden joy at being placed at a higher vantage point, hands raised to the sky.

A tear pooled against the metal brackets fused to his cheekbones, then another. The warmth turned cold and he sobbed quietly. He mourned, mourned for days gone by that he could never go back to. Not even a miracle could give him that life, his life, back. He missed those days, missed the sun and the snow and the cherry trees and the girls and the arcade and his father and his brother.

Hanzo…

He missed his brother. From before, before Father died. It had all gone wrong when Father died, left the clan to Hanzo and turned him cold. He didn’t miss the creature who never smiled, never flinched, and responded to the name of Shimada Hanzo. He only held anger and contempt for that puppet that couldn’t see the face of the man he killed, couldn’t feel his strings being pulled and simply acted. He missed the nights out together, the laughter, Hanzo’s studious face as he concentrated, the small smiles when Genji made a joke that was just the right kind of funny, or fell over, that always got his brother to smile, even laugh.

But he’d lost all that, all of those days. The memories were just that, memories of a life that wasn’t his anymore. Just fleeting images that belonged to a human being, young and stupid and reckless.

They didn’t belong to some freakish amalgam of man and machine, hidden away in a government facility, responding to the name of a dead man.

The tears spilled over and continued down his face and dripped off the edge of the second bracket that replaced his jaw.

A knock resounded at his door, the cyborg startled. He had not been expecting anyone. He had absolutely no idea who would knock, not when there was a doorbell on each door. It was not Angela, his appointment with her was in a little over an hour and she used the bell. Reyes didn’t come here unless he walked with him to his room, he would call for him, not seek him out. No one else ever came to see him.

He wiped his tears on the blanket before rising, absently disconnecting himself as he moved away from the bed. His knees clicked audibly and a vague feeling of not-pain made him wince as he took the first few steps towards the door. When he opened it, just a crack, enough to see who it was, the first thing he saw when he looked up was a wide brimmed hat.

“McCree?” Genji asked, surprised, “What are you doing here?” he dared to open the door a little further.

The gunslinger shifted awkwardly, “Well, I noticed you were a bit upset earlier, during training.”

“I am fine.”

“No, don’t give me that act.” McCree shook his head, “I’ve been where you are-“ he stopped, “Well, not exactly where you are, but… I mean-“ he sighed, Genji waited patiently for him to find his words, “Can I come in?”

“No.” Genji answered sharply, he hoped his curt response would make the American go away.

“Alright, that’s fair.” He replied, infuriatingly understanding, “I just wanted to give you this.” He lifted a bundle he’d been carrying under his arm.

Genji lifted an eyebrow at him, that was when he realised he hadn’t put his mask back on, his face was completely exposed letting the world see exactly who he was and what he was feeling.

And McCree hadn’t said a word.

“What Angela doesn’t know can’t hurt her.” He said conspiratorially, shoving the bundle edge-wise through the door, forcing Genji to take it, “And a little warmth and comfort is good for the soul, especially here.”

McCree tipped his hat with a two-fingered salute and his spurs chimed obnoxiously when he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I lowkey project my own frustrations with physical therapy onto Genji. (Woops?)


	3. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The care package is opened. Genji finds a spark of his old self.

Genji was left standing at his door with a soft bundle about the size of a large briefcase in his hands. Quickly, he closed his door, perhaps a bit too roughly, but he didn’t care.

The bundle was tied together with itself, the soft fabric that made up the outside layer was folded and tied at the four corners to enclose the contents. It was surprisingly neat, Genji hadn’t thought McCree capable of such careful meticulousness. In fact, it seemed more like Commander Reyes to be so conscientious.

He untied the knot, the outer covering proved to be a thick plush blanket, folded on itself to cover another pile of cloth. Genji picked up a slightly crumpled note.

“Jesse suggested this little care package, I hope it makes you feel a little better.” It was Commander Reyes’ handwriting, “Come to dinner with us tonight in the mess hall if you want, we’ll save you a seat.” Another line of writing was scrawled in nearly illegible chicken-scratch that could only belong to McCree at the bottom of the page, “I know we can’t replace the people you lost, but if you’re ever lonely, my door is open.”

Genji couldn’t be sure whether the last line was a gesture of good will or a pick up line. Either way, he didn’t know what to do with the note. His co-workers seemed to care about him like he was their friend, which he wasn’t. He was an assignment, a project, he knew that. He picked up the content of the bundle and held it in front of him.

It was a standard issue Blackwatch hoodie, a size or two too large for him, with the logo printed onto the back and left sleeve and a large pocket on the front. He stood there for a long while, debating. He had the thought that he really shouldn’t be hesitating to finally be putting something on. It had been over a year, and he recalled those first few months of intense discomfort. But Dr. Ziegler’s words were insistent and persuasive, and he had gotten used to it.

What had happened to him, in the past, he’d have disobeyed that command, or any other, faster than his heart could beat. Why was he now so docile?

He tightened his jaw, suddenly furious at the doctor, again. With rage burning in the deepest recesses of what remained of his humanity, he pulled the hoodie over his head. He minded the wires that stuck out from his reconstructed spine and was thankful for the extra size. The weight on his shoulders felt so familiar, and the way the fabric rubbed against his left wrist sent him right back to rainy days.

Watching the rain fall on the grey city beyond the hill, at the wood of the balcony getting darker, all of Hanamura near silent save for the patter of the rain. His breath fogging on the window, a cup of tea leaking warmth into his hands, the steam rising to his face in humid plumes that stuck to his skin.

He felt a smile creep to his face and immediately sat down, holding his arms close to himself and crossing his legs. He enjoyed the sudden warmth that built up under the thick fabric, how it softened everything he felt. A dry bark of laughter nearly escaped his throat when he realised just how little it took for him to be reduced to a grateful puddle of tears. How far the dragon had fallen.

He pulled the long sleeves over his hands and chuckled quietly as they flopped over, looking like paws. It reminded him of another rainy day, so long ago, years now…

“Nya.” He flopped a long sweater sleeve in the direction of his brother, his face stretching into an impish smile. His brother called him an idiot and told him to stop.

He pulled the hood over his head. It felt warm and comfortable, more than he had felt since he had become Overwatch’s guilty little secret.

He almost felt human.

A single tear rolled down like a pinball across the scars that snaked across his face to rest on the corner of his upturned lips. He could stay like this, screw Angela and her recommendations and her safety measures. She didn’t know what he needed, who he was, how he felt. He was his own person and he’d die before he let someone else control his actions.

With a new resolve, he levered himself off the floor and decided to join his team-mates for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise for how long this took. It's midterm season unfortunately.


	4. Interaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji emerges from his den, Jesse continues to be a good friend and Gabriel begins to plot.

“Either way I still shot that guy right between the eyes and saved your life.” Jesse taunted through the buzz of conversation in the mess hall, “So you owe me one.”

“I don’t owe you anything.” Reyes smirked, “I’m your commanding officer, it’s your duty.”

Jesse laughed, “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? The commander takes care of his officers?”

“Not here it isn’t.” Reyes said, a twinkle in his eye betraying the note of humour.

“Oh, come on, boss-“ Jesse suddenly stopped, glimpsing the person who had just walked into the mess hall.

Gabriel paused and turned to look as well.

He had seen them staring and had shoved his hands deeper into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, his head ducked shyly beneath the hood, but he did not stop. Genji picked his way through the crowd, no one seemed to notice him, which was just as well. Right now, he was just another Blackwatch operative in casual clothing. He had elected to go without the mask that covered his face. Jesse had only learned hours ago that it came off at all, until now he had thought that it helped Genji breathe or something.

“Hello, stranger!” Jesse greeted him as he approached their table.

“Sorry?” a sudden look of uncertain confusion passed over Genji’s exposed face.

Jesse thought how much easier it was to read him now that he could see his face and wasn’t guessing at suppressed body language.

“It’s just a saying.” Reyes reassured him, “Sit down, do you want anything?”

“I-“ he cut himself off, “I wouldn’t mind some tea, actually.” He started looking around, scanning the buffet.

“I’ll get it!” Jesse hopped to his feet, “What kind?”

“Green, please, thank you.” Genji nodded politely.

Jesse nodded back and walked over to the buffet, revelling in the gentle chime of his spurs as his heels struck the linoleum. He glanced back at his friend and his commander as he found the tea. Genji more relaxed than Jesse had ever seen him. Maybe it was the thick fabric of the standard issue Blackwatch hoodie hiding the tenseness than permanently gripped the cyborg’s body, but for the first time since Jesse had known him, Genji had walked out of his room without his face covered, of his own free will.

Jesse poured the hot water, the steam rose to meet his face, it was warm and humid and sort of felt good. He was a coffee man himself. And though everyone complained about the coffee here, Jesse was the first and last one to defend it. He vastly preferred the mess hall’s coffee to the one that they served at the little diner at Deadlock Gorge. He still wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t boiled dirt.

Genji was chatting with Gabriel, the commander was talking gently and Shimada was listening. Jesse felt a smile creep to his face, they had done good. He was opening up, at least a little. Moira and Angela had finished whatever they were doing with him a few weeks ago and he had barely ever left his room since then.

Jesse popped the bag into the cup and waited for a bit, jiggling the string in hopes of making it brew faster. It looked like it helped, but he couldn’t be sure, he was no scientist.

Jesse judged the intensity to be satisfactory, but couldn’t be sure how his neighbour wanted it, so he left the bag in and brought a plate.

“Here you go!” he chimed as he set the cup and saucer next to Genji’s place setting.

“Thank you.” He responded gently, giving him a slow nod.

Jesse smiled at Gabriel when Genji took a sip, a short smile flitted across the commander’s face too. They had done good.

It hadn’t taken much to convince Gabriel that Genji really needed some TLC and that Angela, for all her science and wisdom, wasn’t seeing what she was doing to the poor guy in the name of post-operatory health and safety. And the result, even now, was only proof.

“How’re you feeling?” Jesse asked, letting a small conspiratorial smirk play on the edge of his lips.

Genji’s eyes swivelled to him, in the natural light from the window, they didn’t glow the angry red he saw all too often in the practice range.

“I am alright.” He replied, and this time Jesse believed him, “Thank you.” He added.

“It’s what friends do, partner.” Jesse tipped his hat and leaned back dangerously far into his seat, earning an all-suffering gaze from Reyes.

“Friends?” Genji asked, looking to Gabriel.

“Don’t look at me, I’m your commanding officer.” Reyes corrected, “But your safety does fall under my jurisdiction, I didn’t ask for you in my team for you to spend your days locked up and hidden away.”

Jesse caught the hint, he was referring to their earlier conversation. And the gunslinger had the nasty idea that the good doctor Ziegler was going to get an earful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took too long and I'm afraid the next chapter will take even longer because it is Rough.


	5. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel solves a problem, Angela feels guilty.

“Gabriel!” Angela greeted him as he walked into her dimly lit office, “I have not seen you in a while. How are you, has the pain returned?”she asked with a voice filled with genuine concern.

“I’m fine, Angela.” He responded curtly, “My operative however, is not.” Reyes didn’t like wasting time, so he got straight to the point.

“I’m sorry?”

“Shimada.” He clarified, “Am I correct in assuming you’re still working on him?”

“To some extent, yes. He still has some progress to make with his motor skills, I have-“

“He was cleared for duty, Angela. He’s not yours anymore.” The commander growled, “So I want to know why you’re denying a grown man the simple dignity of having some clothes on.”

“You know the reason why, Gabriel.” Angela rose to her feet, Reyes didn’t let himself be intimidated by the doctor’s righteousness, “Unless you want a liability on your team, you’re going to have to let me do my job. I am helping him, and you by extension. If you want him to perform in the field-“

“He’s not a liability, he’s an asset.” Gabriel countered before she could finish her tirade, “And while I respect your concern for my team, his physical prowess is a matter of time. His emotional stability, however, is not.”

Angela looked surprised, “His emotional stability?” she blinked, “Why would you care about that?”

It was Gabriel’s turn to be surprised at her tone, and made an effort to not be insulted by it. Instead of continuing the argument, he decided to change tactics. He located a chair and sat down. He paused for a moment, looking out the window at the moon. It was waxing, near full and casting an eerie grey light into the room.

“Do you remember when Jesse was first dragged in here?” he said as if musing nostalgically.

“Yes.” She seemed puzzled at his apparent sudden change of subject.

“He was a terror.” Gabriel continued, “Insubordination, recklessness, blatant disregard for his safety and that of others, lawless…” He shook his head, “He was impossible.”

“I remember.”

“I couldn’t work with that, but he was valuable. Something had to be done.” Gabriel kept talking, “So I talked to him. It wasn’t easy, but I know interrogation, and it was clear as day. The boy was homesick.” Gabriel made eye contact with the young doctor, “He was in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, in a different country where the rules were so very different. Nothing he had learned about life applied anymore and he was lost. So he lashed out.”

“I remember this Gabriel.” Angela commented, her voice was impatient.

“And if memory serves, you weren’t exactly the most content at first either.” Gabriel pointed out, “You’d spend days locked up in this office. Some of my officers wondered if you even existed at all.” He gestured to the room around him, in all its grey-painted glory.

Angela sighed, the silence in the room amplified the quiet sound beyond itself, “Genji is going through the same thing.” She realised, as if she’d all but forgotten about the simple, universal fact of homesickness, which she probably had. When it was all said and done, Overwatch had become Angela’s home and she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see it otherwise.

“Yes, only much, much, worse.” The commander allowed a pause to hold the office silent for a moment, “You and Jesse at least still recognised yourselves in the mirror when you woke up in the morning. Genji does not. In comparison, we had it easy with Jesse. Even if he was violent, he talked, and if we cared to listen, he was telling us what was wrong.” Gabriel watched Angela’s reactions closely, “Are you aware of what he does when he’s not in your care?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to tell me?” Angela’s tone did not match her words, and Gabriel knew he had already won.

“He locks himself in his room and does his damned best to make himself as unapproachable as possible. He doesn’t talk, he’s quiet as the grave.” Gabriel indulged her, “He doesn’t feel human anymore, Angela.”

“I saved his life.” She said, half nodding, half shaking her head.

“And he hates you for that.” Gabriel said calmly, “I spoke to him for all of three minutes and that much was very clear.”

“So you did manage to talk to him.”

“Jesse isn’t as stupid as he makes everyone think he is.” Gabriel replied, “He saw exactly what was wrong and fixed it. And let me tell you the results were instantaneous.” He rose to his feet, “All I’m saying, is that you need to be more careful. You may have brought him back to life, and I know that you can still see the blueprints you and Moira designed him on when you look at him, but please don’t treat him like a machine. It’s destroying him and I’d very much like to actually have my asset against the Shimadas when this is all said and done.”The commander finished.

“Understood.” Angela said quietly, her voice was level but Gabriel knew the young doctor well enough to know that her heart was breaking inside. He didn’t like causing her pain like that, but she needed to be told.

“Good.” He added as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the update! I have plans for more, so stay tuned :)   
> Thank you all for sticking with me and my inconsistent update schedule.


	6. Recon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there actually is a mission, Jesse's hat is discussed, and Gabe laughs.

For those that cared to pay it mind, Jesse’s hat was a code.

How and when he wore it could give anyone who knew how to read the old Stetson his opinion of a person or situation. Commander Reyes had quickly noticed the patterns and learned how to read the way the gunslinger wore his constant accessory. Jesse was very grateful for that, he didn’t want to have to explain to his commander why he wouldn’t remove his hat when in the presence of a certain person, or why he fiddled with it until it sloped down over his eyes.

Right now, facing the balding German businessman, Jesse kept his hat screwed tight over his head and the brim flat across his brow. Reyes was speaking to him conversationally about stocks and assets. All matter of things that Jesse hadn’t a clue of. He’d been raised in the middle of the desert in New Mexico and been all too young when he joined Deadlock. No chance to finish school, much less learn how to make his way around the global economy. Not that he thought he’d have had any interest in it, too much math and empty words for his liking.

Jesse caught another nervous glance from Swanhild in his direction and tugged his hat over his eyes, narrowing his field of view to a slit containing Swanhild and Reyes alone. With the brim angled the way it was now, Jesse could see without being seen. It was bad enough being without Peacekeeper at his hip, he didn’t want that snake taking stock of him too.

Reyes changed the topic to something that wasn’t business as far as Jesse could tell. Swanhild didn’t seem bothered by the switch, in fact, he even stopped glancing at Jesse. He tilted his head to widen his angle of view by a fraction to see the rest of the office.

Part of his current job was to case this office. If they needed to break in later, they’d need to know where was what and who walked where. A simple enough task that Jesse understood well. When Reyes had gotten him signed on to Blackwatch, he knew exactly what he was getting and Jesse was not going to hold back any of his ill-gotten skills. If Reyes wanted him to case a joint, that was far from a problem.

Swanhild’s office was a large one, with bay windows and a large frosted glass partition separating it from the rest of the floor. A heavy steel door took up most of the right wall, Jesse figured it was either a walk-in safe or a panic room. He really didn’t want it to be a panic room. If it were a safe whoever decided to fight could be locked inside if shit hit the fan but panic rooms were nothing except a pain in the ass.

The desk was nothing special. He was too far away to tell but Gabriel was taking stock of it. Jesse could tell from the way he “fidgeted”. The commander’s legs conveniently happened to hit the legs of the table. He’d apologise and break the conversation. Jesse didn’t even blink when he watched the commander slip a bug into the table’s frame during one of his many collisions.

Jesse noticed a figure behind the glass and tilted his hat up. He made swift eye contact with his commander at the very same moment someone knocked on the door.

“My apologies.” Swanhild smiled at politely at Reyes, “Enter!”

A man entered and Jesse stepped aside, appraising him. He was about as large as Jesse, but built like a workhorse. Jesse was by no means small, but this guy could probably deck him without breaking a sweat. He wore a plain suit, and his face seemed frozen in a blank look of permanent suspicion. Jesse held the eye contact.

It was split second poker with these kinds of men. And if there was anything that Jesse McCree could do, beside shooting, it was play poker.

The other man scowled and turned away. Jesse allowed himself a small smile of victory. He reached for his hat and tugged it back as he watched the guard step forwards towards Swanhild to hand him a note.

Swanhild’s face supressed a scowl as he read it.

“I’m afraid our meeting has been cut short, Mr. King. I must attend to this.” Swanhild sighed in perfect insincerity, “Would it be possible for us to meet again? Perhaps next week?”

“Absolutely.” Reyes smiled amiably as he rose.

“Perfect.”

“I look forward to our next meeting, Mr. Swanhild.” Reyes gestured for Jesse to follow, “Have a pleasant day.”

Jesse followed his commander past the door, where another guard escorted them to the elevator. He kept his hat level the whole way back, enough to have full peripheral vision, never enough to truly show his face.

When they entered the unmarked Overwatch car waiting for them, Jesse tipped his hat all the way back, exposing his face and letting loose the unruly fringe that had been trapped under the edge.

“What did you think?” Gabriel asked after the car turned the corner.

“Don’t inspire me any sort of trust.” Jesse drawled, finally allowing himself to undo the collar that choked at his neck.

“Me neither, Swanhild is definitely up to something.” Reyes muttered, “Now we just have to wait until the bug gives us the information we need. If he’s trading with the Shimadas at all we’ll know about it sooner or later.”

 Silence passed and Jesse fidgeted in his seat. He had the very strong urge to smoke. Gabriel didn’t mind, even joined him sometimes. He normally tried not to in closed spaces for the sake of others, but it had been a few days. Jesse slapped himself internally, he had promised himself he’d do this, and he’d eat his hat if he failed.

“What’s wrong, McCree?” Gabriel asked, turning towards him.

“I’m fine, boss.” He said, smiling.

“I know you, McCree. Your hat isn’t sitting straight, so talk.”

Jesse reflexively reached for the front of his hat and adjusted it. “I’m trying to quit.”

“I can see that, but why?” Gabriel pressed, “Not that I’m going to dissuade you, god knows, Angela would be happy. Did she finally convince you?”

Jesse laughed in response. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to put this, “I wanted to help Genji loosen up, watch a movie or something, but he can’t breathe proper is the air ain’t clean.”

“He has a respiratory aid for that.” Gabriel argued back, but squinted at him, “Oh… Oh, I see where this is going.”

“Do you?”

Gabriel chuckled, “There’s only one thing will make a man want to kick an addiction for the sake of a ‘friend’.” His gaze tilted conspiratorially.

“Commander!” Jesse protested in mock-offense, “I have nothing but the purest intentions towards Agent Shimada.” He stopped for a moment to allow both their laughter to die down, “But in all seriousness, boss, I ain’t in love with him. I just wanna be his friend.”

“I understand, Jesse.” Gabriel sighed, “And boy, does the poor kid need one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah, it's been too long. Getting back to this fic is like taking a drink of water after a day in the sun, hot damn..   
> I've got a better idea of how I'm going to organise the rest of it, so Time-be-willing, I'll have more up sooner rather than later.


	7. Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genji has more problems and is angry at Hanzo, Angela, and everyone else.  
> /!\ Warning: Mild Suicidal Ideation at the end. /!\

Genji had picked up one of the books on the shelf. He had been trying to read it for the past half hour, but his progress through the forest of words had been minimal at best. He flipped himself over and reread the same paragraph he had been trying to absorb for the past five minutes. His English wasn’t bad. It was in fact very good and certainly better than McCree’s lazy, over-contracted drawl. Not to mention that it was not like he didn’t speak the language every day. But now the words just flowed over his mind like so much water off a duck’s back.

He moved on to the next paragraph in frustration. Five more minutes saw him perched on the bed with his legs leaned against the wall and the book held over his upturned face right on the edge of the bed. The change in position did not help him any more than it had the past two dozen times. He sighed deeply.

He was bored. Reyes had listed him for active duty, he had been for weeks, but his first mission would be in two days and those two days could not pass fast enough. He wasn’t excited, far from it, he felt no emotion towards the event. Genji just wanted to be outside, not locked up in the tiny space of his quarters, which was only marginally better than any other place he’d been kept previously since Overwatch had taken him.

Another paragraph slipped past his eyes as he shifted against the mattress. His reconstructed spine was not the most comfortable thing to lay on, but neither was any other part of his body. Sitting and standing were reasonably comfortable, but many a restless night saw him grimacing in pain as one component or another dug into what little of his flesh remained.

His thoughts were arrested by a subtle movement.

“Shit.” Genji  swore to himself as he twisted to correct his inevitable trajectory towards the floor.

To his credit, his roll was superbly executed given how little time he had had to get into position. However that did not help him when he ended up face first on the floor seconds later.

Suddenly very tired, Genji decided this was a good place to be. The power core lodged in his chest pressed uncomfortably into his lungs and the metal brackets on his face only made him more aware of how thin the industrial grey carpeting was, but he decided he didn’t care enough to move.

He sighed again, feeling his lungs expand inside their polymer cage against the hard surface of the floor.

Suddenly, his throat seized. He lifted himself onto his elbows, curling in on himself as he coughed uncontrollably.

He couldn’t breathe. His lungs felt like they were turning inside out and trying to squeeze into his trachea and exit his body that way. He had to breathe. His ribs hurt as he coughed harder. He couldn’t stop, he had to stop, he had to breathe. He needed to breathe. A wave of intense heat spread from the core through his shoulder and chest. It didn’t make his task easier.

He needed to breathe. Now.

His eyes focused halfway while he clumsily reached for the mask on the bedside table. Setting it into place into the grooves etched into the metal brackets on his face was infinitely harder while in the middle of a coughing fit. Still, he managed to hold his breath just long enough, resisting against the feeling of his internal organs, original and synthetic alike, trying to push their way into his throat.

Genji took a deep breath of filtered air. He coughed once or twice more before his breathing returned to normal. 

He collapsed onto the bed. For now, he was content with being able to breathe.

The dull emptiness that normally permeated his current existence like a thick fog parted slightly to allow him to feel increasingly tired. Nothing else, just tired and with a mild headache. If he was honest with himself, it felt a little bit like he had a hangover, except he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol and it was a constant.

He didn’t think he’d miss the day when retching in a bathroom stall and a tablet of aspirin the next morning solved most of his problems.

His quarters had an attached bathroom, like most of the rooms in this wing. He figured that a lot of Blackwatch agents liked their privacy and the unit was small enough to afford that luxury. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for it. Genji couldn’t imagine his shame if he had to be seen in a communal bathroom, every inch of him exposed for all to see just how much of him was reconstructed, how little of his humanity remained. He turned the tap, and watched the water flow.

He didn’t even want to think what would happen if he tried to drink in this body. The result would probably have Angela in a fit. His body was very sensitive technology, how could he go about being so careless? She worried about him, he should be more careful or the next time he does something stupid she might be not able to fix it. He had to accept that there are things he couldn’t do anymore.

He could practically hear her.

As it stood, he could barely breathe outside of a dust-free sterile environment without the mask that reminded him too much of a muzzle. A muzzle that he took off and set on the counter beside him.

A dog of the clan. Reyes had called him that, at the beginning, when he was still an informant, an unwilling human informant. Overwatch had tamed him, he thought as he carefully brought a handful of water over his face. They kept him leashed and muzzled, locked inside the kennel that was this room until they needed him to hunt. He reached behind his head with damp fingers, feeling a node embedded in the relief of a synthetic vertebra. They even had him chipped…

A red gaze met his in the mirror. His glowing irises were all but completely encased by metal supports and guides for the mask that covered his face every time he walked outside. The fractal pattern on the right side of his face looked fresh, reddened by the flush of the warm water against his skin. The electrical burns from Hanzo’s dragon. Somehow he got the feeling that, despite Angela assurances to the contrary, they would never fade beyond this.

Genji wrenched his gaze away from the ghost in his reflection. He didn’t want to think about it. He was here for a purpose, a singular purpose. He had unfinished business and would rest after it was done.

Once he’d destroyed his former clan, it would end and he could die in peace once and for all. Once he’d gotten his revenge, once Hanzo lay dead in a pool of his own blood, cut down from behind as Genji had been. Once he’d turned his back and left his brother sundered and unsalvageable by anything or anyone.

He, at least, would have the mercy to ensure that he would stay dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word document this is on is 10000+ words long... I really did not expect to be going this far with this fic but... here we are I guess.


	8. Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genji has acquired a target and Gabriel wants this mission to go smoothly.

Genji watched the scenery on the screen intently. The Watchpoint below became smaller as the dropship rose into the air, he soon lost the resolution necessary to make out the individual agents milling about on the tarmac.

As they progressed the scenery changed and became a long chain of mountains capped with snow. It reminded him enough of home to make his heart squeeze for a moment inside its reinforced steel cage. He turned away from the visual to consider the interior of the dropship. It wasn’t large, but it was well stocked, he could plainly see the arsenal hung from the walls, the ordnance ready for deployment in crates secured strapped to the floor.

Reyes and McCree were discussing strategy, and he lent the conversation half of his distracted attention. He didn’t want to be caught not paying attention, even if he knew exactly what his task was, and it didn’t involve any sort of collaboration with the other two. Not listening had only gotten him killed in the past, and he would rather not do it again.

After a while the commander called him over, Genji acquiesced and joined him beside the holographic map. It depicted a building complex, a few red outlines denoted where guards would be standing. The blue threads of tamed light sketched the building’s interior, showing the agents the rooms they’d be traversing.

“This is your target.” Reyes summarised, pointing to a red figure seated on the top floor of a building, “McCree and I will come in from below and take out the guards.” He motioned to the additional figures standing on the ground floor, “This will bring them down to us, while you go straight for Swanhild.” He motioned and the map panned out, “Getting to the location is where we split up, do you remember your route?”

“Yes.” He had already memorised the map from the previous night’s debriefing.

This wasn’t his first assassination, and he was grateful that Commander Reyes wasn’t treating it as such. He hadn’t paid much mind as to who Swanhild was, all he needed to know was that he would be unarmed, perhaps have a bodyguard with him and needed to be dead when he left. His instructions were to be silent, fast and unseen, which went without saying.

He had never cared much who his father, Hanzo, or now Reyes asked him to kill, he just did it. At first, it was because he knew he’d get more than just an earful if he didn’t. But as he kept killing, he discovered it was also because he knew he was good at it. And he liked it when he was good at something.

“Good.” He nodded quickly, “Jesse, Genji, I want you two to maintain comms. If anything goes wrong, I want to hear about it. No one goes down.”

“Understood.” He said in the same second as McCree.

“Jinx.” The American smiled at him, Genji made a point to not react in any way.

The pilot signalled that they were approaching and the three gathered by the door. She called out a countdown, when the door swung open they jumped out.

Blackwatch’s dropships were smaller but faster than Overwatch’s. Overwatch could afford to be seen landing, Blackwatch could not. Which was why they were dropped five metres above the concrete of the sleeping German city. Genji landed silently, Reyes rolled, Jesse hit the concrete loudly, spurs still inexplicably present at his heels. A small hand motion from their commander was enough to send Genji down his assigned path. He gave the other two a short glance before he disappeared into a side alley, watching them furtively head towards the tower’s main entrance, guns at the ready.

The tower was not far, especially not by way of the roofs. Genji found that he quite enjoyed his enhanced agility that allowed his to ford the gaps between city blocks without so much as breaking a sweat. He leaped from the top of another building, cybernetics sending him soaring through the air far above the silent, lamp-lit street below. He felt the air still as gravity began to take hold of him again. He pushed off the air again and for a fraction of a second the air beneath his feet became just solid enough beneath for him to push off of. His descent was controlled, aimed for the façade of the opposite building. He sighted a balcony, with wrought iron banisters and grabbed hold of it as he passed. Scaling the wall was not at all hard, his hands found holds where he would have found them too small before, and within seconds, he was running silent as a summer breeze along the roofs again.

He was good before. His skill had even been praised at times, but now he was even better. Better than he could ever have been, better than anyone human could be. The thought brought a smile to his face as he indulged in the thought of the elders, trying in vain to stop him as they met his blade one by one. The sweet taste of revenge gave him a new energy as he ran silently along tin rooftops.

All he had to do was perform well, prove he was ready, and Reyes would let him have his revenge at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, at first it was because I wasn't happy with the chapter, then it was finals and well...  
> I'm still not too happy with it but you deserve an update, thanks for being patient with me :)


	9. Bloodlust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genji kills a person or two, and fantasizes about revenge.  
> WARNING: Graphic Description of Violence.

Genji reached the tower quickly. He sent a ping on the comm for the location of his teammates.

“Two minute ETA” came McCree’s voice in his ear.

“One minute.” the commander corrected.

He waited, crouched in the shadow of a flamboyantly decorated chimney, watching the low tower of glass and steel. He needed their distraction, he was to go in while the other two disposed of the ground floor and got out. Of course, he could probably go up there and take care of Swanhild himself, but this was not a situation for reckless insubordination. This was a hit, and hits were meticulous, calculated, planned. Even he knew that, better, he excelled at it. He and his brother were likely the best assassins anyone could find. How lucky for Commander Reyes to have gotten his hands on him.

How unwise of Hanzo to have left him alive. He will pay for that mistake, soon, very soon.

“In position.” Came the commander’s voice, “Ready.” Came McCree’s.

Genji smiled when he heard the first gunshot. He waited thirty seconds, easily kept by the count of his steady, practiced heartbeats, then leaped into action.

The outer wall was mostly glass, but the steel support frames offered just enough purchase for him to scale it up to the seventh floor. He alighted on a narrow balcony, inset among the windows, adorned with a pathetic looking potted plant. He waited, gunshots resounded below. He was silent. He listened. A man was talking inside, agitated, scared, speaking German. Another responded, gruff, harsh, reassuring, in the same language.  Swanhild had a bodyguard with him. A door closed, a pause, a combination was heard. A panic room, he had to act now, before Swanhild locked himself beyond his reach.

Swanhild turned abruptly when the lock on the balcony door ripped open. He squeaked when Genji charged at him. The door to the panic room was open, Swanhild attempted to get inside, but he was too slow. No one would ever be fast enough to beat him now. Genji latched his artificial hand onto the edge of the heavy safe door, preventing it from closing. Swanhild’s face was close, he was sweating profusely, his eyes wet, wide, and wild as they reflected the smouldering red of Genji’s own. A deep wet stain was blooming along the rim of his collar.

Pathetic.

Genji ripped the door open, Swanhild’s feeble grip on it was nothing compared to the raw machine strength the cyborg had at his fingertips. The man began to back away, cornered, fearful, but he was still far too slow.

Genji grabbed his collar and unceremoniously slit his throat, dropping the corpse at his feet to bleed out on the grey carpet.

The door to the large, bay windowed office slammed open moments later and the large framed bodyguard erupted into the room. To his credit, it didn’t take him long to take stock of the scene and pull out his sidearm.

Behind his mask, the assassin smiled. He felt the familiar thrum of bloodlust purr between his ears, his blade thirsting for more, demanding that blood flow.

It almost felt like he still had his dragon.

“Do you really think that is a good idea?” Genji taunted, playing with the grip of his bloodstained sword, twirling it insolently.

“Don’t move.” He growled, the trigger clicked.

“Or what?” Genji mocked, winding the blade around his hand one last time.

He stepped forward, his sword ready, his eyes trained on the barrel of the gun. The guard shot. The bullet travelled. The sword came up and the bullet travelled back from whence it came.

The guard fell with his own bullet lodged between the eyes, dead before he hit the ground.

Genji looked at his handiwork, gave a small huff of satisfaction and strolled back to Swanhild’s corpse wiping the blood off his blade off on the grey suit.

“It is done.” He advised his partners when he walked back to the balcony.

“Acknowledged. Fall back.” Reyes answered.

Genji considered the drop. He couldn’t go through the inside, too much risk of being by someone who might still be alive after it all, but he was seven floors up. Even with his augments, he doubted he could stick a seven-story fall without breaking something. He scanned the horizon, the closest building to the tower was five stories tall, but the entire street and the width of the plaza away. He considered the leap before taking off.

When he landed, cat-like and silent on the tin roof across the way, a predatory smirk of pure satisfaction etched itself onto his hidden features.

It stayed there while he raced back to the rendez-vous point. The wind whistled past his ears, forming a symphony of white noise that almost drowned out the thick silence of his feet hitting the roof. He could feel each electrical impulse that made his body, both flesh and machine, move. He could feel each breath, drawing in air, never faltering as he ran. He could feel his heartbeat, still human, beating fast and hard, exhilarating. It was intoxicating, his speed and agility was beyond human and so, so perfect.

He would have his revenge, just like this, just as easy. The elders would not know the thick silence of his presence against the balmy nights of a Hanamura summer. They would not know of his blade until the moonlight showed it to them the moment before it met their throats. He would be silent, unknown unless he wanted to be seen. He was superior in every way to the very people who had shunned him for the opposite. He would return for revenge and leave victorious, his blade wet with the blood of the family that renounced him, the taste of iron on his lips and pure, perfect, divine revenge finally calling his vengeful ghost to rest.

They had thrown away their greatest weapon. And now he would be coming back for their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for your comments and kudos, ya'll give me life.
> 
> I hope this wasn't too OOC, also: I am going to explain the thing about his dragon. (i'm going off of a few HCs of mine)


	10. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jesse can't sleep, neither can Genji and cookies are shared.

Jesse couldn’t sleep. This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Normally, when insomnia struck him, he would lie awake in his bed, staring at the darkness behind his eyelids. But tonight, tonight, for some reason he was taken with the urge to wander.

And so wander he did. He had first angled for the break room they shared with Overwatch, the empty space had large bay windows leading to a small balcony. Though after pilfering a half-finished box of cookies, it wasn’t very interesting, just empty and silent in a way he knew it was never meant to be. The corridors were a dangerous place to be, being that he knew very well who was a light sleeper and who wasn’t. Very few people fell into the second category.

And so the roof seemed a better and better option every passing second.

The outside air was chilly and he regretted his decision to go on his little midnight excursion barefoot. At least he had put a shirt on. Though the cold was brutal, it certainly didn’t take anything away from the view. The stars were in full view, glittering above the mountains like diamonds sown into deep blue velvet. There was no moon, the sky was dark save for the stars.

Jesse sighed contentedly and nibbled on a cookie. The wind whistled lightly in his ears, whispering secrets he couldn’t understand. If he closed his eyes, with his feet dangling off the edge under the banister, he could picture himself back in the desert, back in New Mexico. He could picture himself back home, in the brutal, bone-chilling cold of a desert night.

Jesse shook his head. Now was not the time to be feeling nostalgic. He was at home here, there was nothing for him back in there. Deadlock promised nothing good and anyone else…

Anyone else was either dead or thought he was. It was better to let it stay that way.

The night had suddenly become heavy. Gone was the levity of the starlight, of the velvet sky. Now it just felt smothering, suffocating. It felt like a hundred and fifty degrees on burning rock and no water for the next hundred miles. It felt like a four way standoff, waiting for the first shot and the first body to fall, hoping it isn’t you. It felt like the sweetness of gunpowder in his throat, all ammo expended and nothing but smoke hanging heavy in the air as you wonder if your opponent has a bullet left or not. It felt like someone was watching. It felt like imminent danger.

Jesse turned around. There was nothing behind him. He listened, and the wind continued to whisper, only now he did understand what it said. There is someone here, it hissed, and Jesse wished he’d been paranoid enough to bring Peacekeeper.

“Whoever you are, you’d better show yourself.” He softly called out to the deceivingly empty night.

He didn’t want to wake anyone, not yet. Not when it was still possible that he was seeing ghosts in the shadows.

Silence answered him. Still feeling tense, Jesse turned around.

“Fuck!” he swore loudly, stumbling backwards over himself.

A pair of red eyes watched him carefully, almost as if their shadow-clad owner was bored. He couldn’t see much in the dark, but he only knew one person who sported a pair of peepers quite as devil-touched as those.

“Genji, you scared me!” He breathed.

He hadn’t been that offput by Genji’s general appearance in recent times. But one had to say the guy certainly made one hell of an impression when he suddenly appeared out of nothing like that. He was like a ghost or some sort of demon, with the terrifying red glow to boot.

“I apologise.” His mechanical voice broke the spell somewhat.

“What are you doing up here?” Jesse asked, he needed to get his heart rate down.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Jesse sighed.

Genji marked a small pause, “Neither could I.”

Jesse nodded, the conversation had come to a standstill, “Cookie?” he offered the box after plucking one out for himself.

“Where did you get those?”

“The break room.”

“Is that Dr. O’Deorain’s handwriting?”

Jesse squinted at the box. In the dark, it was hard to make out the letters, but the heavily slanted script in black sharpie was, in fact, vaguely shaped like the sentence “Property of Moira O’Deorain, Do Not Tamper.”

“Huh, guess it is.” Jesse paused in chewing, “Do you think she put something in it?”

“If she did you’ll find out in the morning.”

“She gives me the creeps.” Jesse shook his head, “I don’t trust her or anything that come out of that lab.”

Genji was silent. Jesse noticed the red gaze dip away towards the cliff below and the dull shadows that seemed to compose Genji’s body slump as if dejected.

“Aw hell.” Jesse almost physically slapped himself, “Genji, I didn’t mean you.”

“Did I not come out of that same laboratory?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re your own person.” Jesse laughed nervously.

Genji huffed bitterly, “Am I?” he asked quietly, red eyes staring into the bottomless depths of the cliffs below, unlit by the moonless night.

Jesse was not certain those words had been meant for his ears. He offered the box of cookies again.

This time, Genji took one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! I got really distracted by another fandom and also surgery. I do want to keep working on this, I'll do my best to keep it going.


	11. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genji is doubts and Jesse tries.

Genji stumbled back towards the rendez-vous point.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He couldn’t feel it, he couldn’t feel anything, but he knew something was wrong. He took his steps gingerly, careful not to jostle whatever component had been knocked loose, or broken, after he’d gotten thrown.

He felt tears sting at the behind his eyes and a sob well against his throat like just one more malfunction threatening to kill him all over again. It didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt, or would ever hurt. He couldn’t feel the metal part of himself, he never would know when a critical wire, devoid of nerves, disconnected, or when a servo tore itself to shreds. He’d be impaired and feel no pain. No better than one of those old cars with a broken thermostat, overheating itself until its own engine melted into slag through the chassis.

In the past he always knew when something went wrong. When he’d been shot he knew as much by the pain and the blood staining his clothes. When he’d broken a rib, he knew as much by the pain when he breathed. When he’d died, he knew as much because there was no more pain but so, so much blood and all of it his own.

Now there was no pain, but something was wrong. Something had to be wrong, he’d been thrown off a roof, something had to be wrong. Moira would be angry that he’d damaged himself again, that he had gone an undone all her good work. He should be more cautious, his body was a marvel of technology and the hard work of a whole team of people. He’s sturdy but not invulnerable and he should remember that.

A tear finally spilled over the edge and Genji stopped walking, leaning heavily against the dirt-stained wall of the alley. He didn’t so, but he still had his tears. Despite it all, he could still cry. When a strangled sob broke past his patchwork throat into the air, it sounded like the agonised splutter of some dying machine.

The horror of it drove him to force his lungs to still. He angrily wiped the tears away from his eyes and continued.

Nothing hurt, but something should. He wasn’t sure, he could feel so little, how could he know if something went wrong? He was blind to his own body, clueless as to how it worked. Deprived of the simple pain that told any human being when it was time to stop.

The rendez-vous point was within sigh, a small plaza hidden away between two highrises and an old chapel. He could see a vague shadow loitering in the distance, squinting revealed it to be McCree. Genji’s reduced speed had allowed him to reach the location first.

Genji approached silently, for he had no other way to do so.

“Genji!” McCree noticed him. It was fortunate for the man that Genji hadn’t startled him again, his squawk of surprise had been very undignified, “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He answered.

“You get shot?”

“No, thrown off a roof.”

“Ouch.” McCree cast an appraising eye over him, checking for damage, “You don’t seem hurt. Any pain?”

“Not that I can tell.”

The American paused, frowning gently, “We better tell the Commander, and Angie.”

“Going to Angela is a given.” Genji snapped back.

McCree only hummed in agreement.

When their transport arrived, their boarded and were quickly carted off back to base. The back of the van was not very large, especially not with the armoured cases stacked in there with them. Genji was sitting next to the other operative, who had somehow managed to swing his legs up onto one of the cases while sitting on the bench. Genji wanted to curl up and ignore the other man’s presence entirely, but the idea of moving and possibly causing more damage than he already had filled him with a sense of dread.

“You gonna be alright?” McCree asked.

For once, Genji could see his entire face despite the hat and fringe. The latter was unruly. It was currently tucked behind one of the American’s ears, it would no stay there long, Genji guessed.

“Genji?”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t want to be talking right now.

“You sure?” Concern dripped from his voice like the thick, too-sweet syrup Americans seemed to put in and on nearly everything, it made Genji very uncomfortable, “Any idea what might be wrong?”

“No.” he snapped a red glare at his co-worker, “Since when are you the medic?”

McCree had the decency to look at least slightly affronted, “I’m just trying to help.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t need your help.”

“My ass you don’t.” McCree grumbled, “Listen, Genji. You can play tough guy all you want, but that don’t change the fact that we’re a team, and teams help each other. So you’ve got my help whether you want it or not.”

“I don’t.” Genji retorted immediately, “Stop wasting your breath, Agent McCree.”

“Suit yourself.” McCree huffed as he leaned back, “Tell me if you change your mind.”

He pulled his hat over his eyes and slouched. The conversation was clearly over.

As the hours passed, Genji felt worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is slightly less polished than usual, but I really wanted to get another chapter up for you all.   
> (The next chapter will be the long awaited Comfort that's tagged up there but is less present than I anticipated...)


End file.
